


Falling On My Head Like A Tragedy

by marysiak



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual Violence, Glasgow, M/M, None - Freeform, Scotland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU set in present day Glasgow featuring BB and DM. Billy and Dom are not and never have been actors but are still friends. Apologies to Billy's girlfriend, I'm sure she's lovely and probably not called Cathy at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling On My Head Like A Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014.

   
**[Falling On My Head Like A Tragedy](http://monaboyd.net/archive/viewstory.php?sid=35) by [Marysia](http://monaboyd.net/archive/viewuser.php?uid=10)**

   
Word count: 944 Read: 1169  
Published: 02 Dec 2003 Updated: 02 Dec 2003

Title: Falling On My Head Like A Tragedy  
Author: Marysia  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: Dom/Billy  
Summary: I wanted to write ClockWork Orange/LotRips AU but I am utterly incapable of reproducing the language of Cwork Orange. Sigh. So instead we will have random violence. There was supposed to be pr0n but then the story went and finished without there being any. Today sucks. This is AU, set in present day Glasgow.  
Disclaimer: Dom and Billy aren't mine, but I did kiss them once which makes us practically engaged.

 

He was feeling decidedly caged animal today.

He had drunk coffee, which had only made it worse. Paced the room. Flicked angrily through his limited tv channels. Made toast. Picked at it. Thrown it away.

When it started to reach the stage where he knew he was going to start breaking things he left the house.

He couldn't cope with Sundays alone when there was no football on.

The church bells down the road always woke him angry. The tv was shite. There was this stifling blanket of stillness that could only be broken by family bickering or beer soaked shouting.

He hated being alone on Sundays.

Out on the street he could get up a decent frustrated stomp. He could kick at random things; cans, stones, cats, cars. He set off four car alarms in a row and then legged it.

He'd go round to Billy's, see if he could sneak him out without the bloody harridan girlfriend stopping them. Talk him into something disreputable.

\----------

Standing out back of Billy's house throwing stones at his window it felt like being twelve all over again. Maybe he'd never stopped being twelve.

It was Cathy who heard him though, saw her looking out the kitchen window and then heard the shouting.

"Billy! It's that friend of yours again, throwing stones at the bloody windows. Tell him you're busy. I don't want you hanging out with him any more."

Billy came out the back door still pulling his jacket on with Cathy on his heels.

"Don't you dare, William Boyd. Don't you bloody dare!"

"I'll be back later, Cath. Give it a break."

She doesn't come more than a couple of steps out the door and he manages to land a quick kiss on her cheek even though she ducks away, face black and furious.

They make their getaway over the back wall as she shouts after them, "When are you going to start acting your bloody age!"

"God, she's shrill when she's mad," Billy winces. "You've lost me my evening blow job you realise."

"You should dump her, she's rank," he answers sourly.

"She is not, she's lovely," Billy replies without rancour. "She just doesn't like you, and with good reason may I add. What are we up to this fine afternoon?"

The grey sky started to let down a fine mist of water to go with the cold wind. Billy turned up the collar of his jacket.

"Dunno. I was bored."

Billy eyes him as they walk quickly down the road, hurrying to get nowhere. Billy can read him like a book, always could. They've known each other four years now, ever since Dom moved to Glasgow. He thinks he only stays because he can't imagine what it would be like to be more than 20 minutes walk from seeing Billy.

He thinks Billy probably doesn't feel the same though. After all he has Cathy now. Dom grits his teeth. Bitch.

"You want to spar then?" Billy asks.

Dom lets out a whistling sigh of relief. "God, yeah. Let's go down back of the factory."

\------------------

This is how they met, at the karate class down the local church hall. They had made a good pair, similar heights, similar ability levels. They'd bonded over strained muscles and bruised shins.

Dom can't afford to go any more, now he's out of work.

Billy had stopped months ago. He missed it.

As they squared off among the rusting metal and puddles he felt the tension in him coiling into something else.

"Not the face, okay," Billy warned him, reading his body language. "Cath'll kill me if I come back missing a tooth."

"Fuck, Cath," Dom growled.

"Dom..." Billy was sinking down into his familiar stance, guarded, eyes closing down from translucent rain green to wary forest darkness. "Not. The. Face."

Then he was striking out with the first blow and Dom was falling back, winded from a foot to the solar plexus. He fell on his arse in the mud, gasping.

"You twat," Billy crowed. "Come on then."

Billy was fast but he was out of shape and Dom was wound tighter than Cathy's knickers. They knocked their way out of karate into pub-style kicking the shit out of each other and as their endurance waned fell into playground wrestling, coated in mud, until they lay on the ground breathing hard.

"I'm gonna have a fuckin' black eye," Billy gasped. "You English bastard."

"Tell Cath it's a present from me to her." Dom spat pink tinged onto the ground.

"You're such a wanker."

"Fuck you."

"If you just tried to get on with her..."

"Don't start with me, Bill. I don't like her and that's it."

"Fine. Don't like her."

"Fine."

They listened to the rain falling for a while.

It was cold and wet and painful and a thousand times better than being alone in his house on a Sunday afternoon.

\- The End -

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://monaboyd.net/archive/viewstory.php?sid=35>


End file.
